Their child was baptized Abigail Christine Morgan. Not that either of her parents were religious, but still, it was a nice ceremony. No one they knew came, it was just the three of them with the priest, and it was all they needed. All they wanted, really.

Abigail was not a fussy baby, no, she was quiet and a good sleeper, and yet during the past few months Charles and Eleanor had realized what it truly meant to be a parent. The cook had suggested hiring a nanny, but Eleanor had refused. She had not said anything, but Charles suspected that the loss of her own mother at such a tender age had made Eleanor want to be there for Abigail every step of the way, and that meant waking up to feed her ever so often.

In every possible way, Abigail Christine Morgan was the perfect child, as Charles kept whispering into his daughter's ear every time he held her. Eleanor would scoff and tell him he was biased and would only spoil her rotten, but the fondness on her face betrayed her true thoughts to be exactly the same as his.

It was after the baptism when they heard the news. Charles was still holding the small child, unhappy about how the holy water had washed away the scent she had, for nothing was better than the scent of his newborn daughter. He couldn't explain what it was, but it was absolutely perfect. They stepped onto the street, ready to hop on the carriage when they heard two patrons at the next door tavern speak.

"Did you hear Charles Vane has been executed?" the older man asked the younger. The use of that name so casually on the streets made both of them stop on their tracks.

"Yes, I did hear of it, indeed. Finally, the English managed to hang that bastard. The seas are now much safer for us decent folk," the younger mused. Charles managed to break through from his trance, and yanked Eleanor into the carriage. They drove in silence, but hearing the chatter all over town as they approached their home.

As the door was firmly shut between the Morgan residence and the outside world, Charles and Eleanor exhaled deeply.

"It appears I am dead," Charles rasped, placing Abigail in her cot.

"I wonder who they hanged instead of you," Eleanor pondered, closely watching Charles' reaction.

"Some poor bastard who probably deserved better than a public hanging."

"I think this is it, then," Eleanor said.

"What do you mean?"

"You are dead, officially. It means no one is looking for you at least. I think we are safe, Charles." Charles suddenly grasped her hand and pulled her body tightly against his, crushing his lips to hers. The kiss was full of so many feelings, love, relief, and lust. God the lust was killing both of them. Six weeks, Fantine had said. It had now been eight, and they both felt it in every fiber of their being. The laces of her bodice were ripped open faster than ever before. Charles leaned to kiss the breasts that were now heavy with milk, serving a purpose other than his pleasure.

"To the bedroom," Eleanor whispered, with a low moan. And he obliged, taking her to their bed, and then taking her body, for himself, back all to himself. Every inch of her was his, slightly altered, but still her, so purely her. The feel of her body was intoxicating and the sense of their bodies together purely ecstatic.

Her moans and his grunts filled the room, reaching their peak faster than they had ever before. This moment was so pure, in a way. There was absolutely no hostility between them, just lust, love and comfort. They collapsed into each other's embrace, just sucking in all those feelings, all the intimacy shared between them, only deepened by their child, not diminished as both of them had feared, never voicing it out loud.

"It's all behind us now," Eleanor murmured. He traced the little freckles on her arm, making her shiver.

"No, it's all ahead of us," he said with a kiss. And he was absolutely right.

Not only had Charles Vane been executed, but so had Jack Rackham. Charles did not show a sign of devastation, but Eleanor could see it in his eyes. No matter than he was never going to meet his friend again, it was still different knowing they were alive and well. But now he was dead as well. As were many others. No word of Anne or Max had reached them, which Eleanor took as a good sign. Those two women were resilient.

Piracy was indeed dying in the Caribbean. Some stroke of luck had seen to that Charles and Eleanor were still here, with their sweet and beautiful daughter right by them. And no matter how much Charles loved Eleanor and Abigail, Eleanor could see that he was getting restless. And for the matter, so was she. She was not a woman who would ever just settle for raising a child and doing nothing more. The ambition that was so characteristic for her had never left. It was still there, right under the surface. And Eleanor Guthrie had never been a woman not to put her ambitions into being, and Eleanor Morgan was no different. The store front was there, just down stairs, and Charles wanted to be at the sea once more. So he would sail, and she would sell. That is how she had planned it and that is how she executed it.

The sea breeze was almost orgasmic. He had truly missed it, and no wonder, as it had been part of him for so long. And now it was part of him again, sailing a ship, exporting rare goods to the city of New Orleans. The sailing parts took longer than they had before, the trips were dangerous, but no longer even nearly as violent as the life of a pirate had been. He missed it, piracy. Nothing had made him feel more alive than being on a ship, thrusting his blade through a man and taking what was his, just by the right that he was stronger. He did miss it. But he missed them the most. Eleanor and Abigail. They were never that far away from his thoughts while he sailed. They were worth sacrificing piracy for. They were worth being alive for. For it seemed he would have been dead had he continued on his path as a pirate. He had lost something dear, but he had gained something as well. Death by a sword no longer held the appeal it once had. Death by a blade would mean he would not get to see Abigail grow, say her first words, take her first steps. No, this was a worthy sacrifice. And he had absolutely no regrets.

"I will never visit this establishment again, madam!" Charles heard a customer yell as he stepped inside after long weeks at sea.

"Well good fucking riddance, sir!" Eleanor yelled, and then finally saw her husband at the door. The angry look on her face melted away and she took the steps to reach him and wrapped her arms tightly around his middle.

"You smell fucking horrible," she murmured, her nose deeply buried in his neck. Charles lifted his gaze to see the elderly male customer, still at the counter.

"My wife's so lovely, don't you think?" he asked. With that the man took off, making both Eleanor and Charles laugh in his wake.

"I'm glad you're home. She's crawling you know? It's driving me insane!" Eleanor said.

"She's crawling?" There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had not been here to see it.

"Yes, I had to take up a nanny. I can't keep an eye on her and run this place." Charles pulled her back into an embrace. They both loved their daughter to death, but it was also clear they both needed more substance to their life than seeing her grow up. So they were bound to miss things. It did not feel great, however.

"Come on, close the place. I want to see my princess." Eleanor smiled at him and took him upstairs to see their sleeping daughter.

"I can't believe she's already nine months old," Charles whispered as she looked at Abigail, sound asleep, her thumb in her mouth.

"Yes, well I can." Eleanor stated.

"She's growing up so fast. I already miss her being a tiny baby," he murmured and stroke Abigail's light brown locks ever so carefully. Eleanor cleared her throat.

"Well, you are going to get to relive all that." Sha stated. Charles froze.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm pregnant. Again." Charles just stared at her, absolutely nothing going through his mind.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure, Charles. For fucks sake, this one isn't even one, how did this happen?" she said, her voice filled with agony. Something in that voice made him laugh. He laughed until Eleanor swatted his arm.

"You know perfectly well how it happened, Eleanor," he said, with a mischievous grin. "How about a practice round? For the third one?" Eleanor groaned loudly.

"This will be the last one. I swear."

And this time her promise was accurate. Grace Alexandra Morgan was born sixteen months after her older sister. She would forever be the baby of the family, to the relief of everyone. Two was plenty, both Charles and Eleanor thought. Eleanor perhaps more so than Charles, for she was after all the one having to do all the work. A family of four was perfect for them. Just the two of them, and their two beautiful daughters. Two beautiful daughters was all they could ask for. When all four of them sat on the huge bed, Eleanor holding the newborn Grace, and Charles trying to hold Abigail back from pocking her fingers into her little sister's eyes, everything was once again perfect. Just like it had been when Abigail had been born. But this time, they were complete. Everything they needed was here and now. He kissed all three of his girls in his arms. Nothing had ever felt this good in his life. Nothing.

The Morgan household was always full of stories. When Abigail and Gracie were little, they believed everything, played pirates, just the two of them, Abigail always trying to be in charge of the game, and Grace not caring one bit of her older sister's efforts, declaring that pirates did not have to follow rules. Even at such a young age, it was easy to see their characters shining through. Abigail was reserved, yet very smart, and able to control the people around her to get what she wanted. Grace, however was easy going, happy and always smiling. Their children could not have been more different in character, and yet they looked more like twins than sisters. Light brown wavy hair, deep blue eyes and the most perfect pair of dimples gracing their cheeks.

Years, however, had the habit of rolling by, and time seemed to just fly by. Eleanor and Charles tried to cherish the moments, and yet the time seemed to slip away, and suddenly they found themselves standing in their parlor, in the middle of the night, looking at their daughters almost grown, caught trying to sneak back inside.

"Momma, daddy, it was all my fault, I made Abigail do it," Grace chattered in front of them, her hands flailing back and forth.

"And why the fuck did you do that, Gracie?" Charles asked, his voice stern. Actually he was mad as hell, and he was just trying to contain himself.

"Because Abigail is in love, naturally," Grace said with a dramatic eye roll. Abigail sat quietly on her seat, not saying a word, not even reacting to what her little sister had just said.

"Abigail, is this true?" Eleanor asked, the anger seeping through her voice. Abigail lifted her eyes to meet her mothers and she just nodded. It felt like a stone had replaced his heart. His little girl was in love? No, not possible.

"Who is he?" he said, barely holding back a growl.

"His name is Dorian. He's a sailor," Abigail said with a steady voice, looking straight into Charles' eyes, showing no fear.

"Are you fucking kidding with me?" Eleanor huffed under her breath and turned to look at her husband. For a while they just stared at each other and then they burst into laughter. The laughter would not die down, and their children were forced to sit there and watch this scene unfold.

"She's sneaking out to see a sailor, in the middle of the night!" Eleanor laughed. Charles laughed even harder.

"I don't know where she gets it from," he sneered.

"Umm, can we go to bed now, please?" Grace interrupted their musings.

"Yes, go to bed. And stay there." Eleanor ordered. The girls took their leave, but before they were out the door, Charles just had one more thing to say.

"You can't see him again," he said with his most assertive voice. Abigail turned to stare him right into his eyes.

"I will. I don't care what you say. Good night." And with that they were back off to their beds, leaving Charles and Eleanor alone in the parlor.

"We deserved to have them as our children, didn't we?" he asked Eleanor.

"Oh yes. And I think we are getting off easy here. At least Abigail took Gracie with her. You know very well what happened when I came to see you when I was her age." Charles grimaced at the idea.

"Don't worry about it, Charles, we raised smart girls. Abigail is smarter than I am. This Dorian is most likely no Charles Vane; you know? He's probably a sweet boy." Charles gritted his teeth. This was his life now, worrying about his daughters doing the exact same things their mother had done at their age, and with him no less. It seemed like a divine punishment. And perhaps it truly was, for just a week later it was revealed Dorian worked in his crew and had no intention of giving up either his job or Abigail, not even when compelled with a little violence. It truly was a divine punishment, and yet seeing the look on his daughter's face when she looked at her beloved made him relent. His life had been full of ups and downs, but never as much as when he had become a father. It was something he had to live with, for better or for worse

As Charles and Eleanor looked back on their lives, they were happy. At the age of sixteen when Eleanor had first found herself in bed with Charles Vane, she had never imagined they would grow old together, have a beautiful family, and see the day she would become a grandmother. And yet that day did come, and even if the moment was full of joy, it also made her feel blue. She knew Charles felt it as well. They had given up Nassau, their home and friends, their ambitions. It had been a trade worth making, very much so. But there was not a day that passed when she did not think of the days when she was the Pirate Queen of Nassau. That feeling of holding so much power in your hands never leaves a person. The amount of influence they both had had in Nassau was just a faint memory now, and yet they still felt it vividly. And she did miss it, having the power to crush another human being if she willed it, bending others to her vision... and Charles... she could see it in his face how much he missed the blood dripping down his hands, the simpler times when everything he wanted to take was his for taking.

That was all in the past now, the most dreaded pirate in the world and the Queen of Thieves had been dead to the world for a few decades now. The world had forgotten, and yet they had not. Even to their children, their lives on Nassau were just stories, something they did not truly believe had happened to them. They were just stories from their childhoods, and Eleanor and Charles never saw the need to correct that. Their two princesses did not have to know about Charles' youth in slavery, his need to free himself by piracy. Or her own insecurities about her father, that had led her to trust no one and to turn her back on people who loved her the most. There was no need for that, for their children did not live in that world, they did not have to. By their sacrifice, their children had lived a happy and a sheltered life. They were not put through the emotional trauma as Eleanor and Charles had. And that was their proudest achievement. Seeing two strong women standing before them, living a life free of violence and betrayal, it was worth everything they felt they had given up.

And now seeing her eldest daughter cradle her first born daughter in her arms, everything seemed to come together. The choices Eleanor and Charles had made twenty-one years ago, had made this all possible. It allowed her to now wipe away the tears from the corner of her eyes as the tiny little fingers of her first grandchild wrapped around her finger. That choice had given her and Charles so many years together. Years they never thought they'd spent together. The two of them had always been set for destruction, it had been clear as day. Their relationship was just a rush of emotion that guided them through life, sometimes riding on the wave, sometimes going under, almost drowning them.

And these past twenty-one years had been far from smooth sailing. They were after all Charles Vane and Eleanor Guthrie, no matter what name they had taken to be theirs. And being who they were, nothing ever came easy. Still, they were happy. It was something neither of them had ever even dreamed of having. Those two decades ago, it had not seemed possible, and now all those years later, it was reality.

"If I died today, I'd be happy to go. I have it all," Eleanor whispered to Charles, reaching for his hand.

"Remember what you promised, you won't go without me."

"I would never even dream of it." It would be fitting to say that they lived their lives happily ever after, but after all they were Charles Vane and Eleanor Guthrie, so some-what happily ever after will have to do. And for them, it was more than enough.

AN: Well this is it, guys. When I planned this fic, it was supposed to be under 20k, that did not happen as you can see from the word count. This fic was really inspired by my need to see a wildly different ending for these two than what the show gave us. Some might say the characters are not in character, but frankly, I don't care. I wanted a happy ending, so I wrote it. I hope you enjoyed this fic even half as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you like the happy ending as well. I'll most likely be back with my vanexeleanor fics in the future, but now I'm just glad I got this story written down. Thanks so much for everyone who read, favorited, followed and most of all to those who commented on this fic. Those comments keep a writer alive. So yeah, thanks :)